


the keystone that held the cathedral up

by orphan_account



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-14 23:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Okay, so. There's this boy. He falls in love with another boy, which isn't how most stories go but it happens sometimes.





	the keystone that held the cathedral up

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration: everyone wants to drive on through the night, if it's a drive back home. [fall out boy; ginasfs]

The lawyer's office was cramped and stifling. The overhead fan rattled like it was on its last breath; the little air that circulated brushed the loose leaves of paper that peeked out from a tower of haphazardly stacked folders. A weak shaft of sunlight streamed through the lone window, illuminating the tired, pale faces of the people sitting on the threadbare sofa.

The woman's back was straight as a rod; her dancer's posture hasn't failed her yet. She perched on the edge, feet daintily crossed at the ankles and hands folded in her lap. Her face remained impassive, but Dongmin could hear the slightest hitch of her breath as the lawyer read over the terms of their divorce. He does so in an even voice, as cool and as bored as the mask she had worn for this _joyous_ occasion.

"Do you have any objections?"

Doyeon shakes her head. She doesn't turn toward him, but Dongmin can see her hands curl into fists as she waits for his response.

"None."

Her hands unfurl; one takes out a pen from a lilac purse and she begins to sign the papers with stark efficiency. He notices her signature has reverted back to the one she used before their marriage. The observation knocks hollowly against his chest, but he is too exhausted to feel much about it now.

She quietly pushes the stack towards him. Dongmin takes it and flips through the pages, beginning the same routine. He ignores the way his signatures grow shakier over time, letting out a sigh of relief as he does the last one.

"Thank you." The lawyer says as he hands it to him. Dongmin absurdly expects him to say _congratulations_! and is oddly disappointed when he doesn't. He merely stands and declares the divorce settled. They both stand to bow and take their leave.

He follows Doyeon out, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor accompanying their pathetic parade. He wonders what the protocol for ex-wives are. Should he offer her a ride? Hail her a cab? Should they hug? Let her kiss his cheek?

The air is tense and for the first time since they've decided to part ways, he feels _lost._ Doyeon had been in every frame of his life for the past seven years, her kind eyes and her dark hair and her beautiful smile and her carefree laugh and the way she cried quietly when she thought he was already asleep and the overwhelming sadness in her voice when she said she was tired of pretending-

Her step finally falters as the stark reality of what they've done thrown is thrown into broad daylight, nearly making her stumble. Dongmin reaches for her arm on autopilot, but she deliberately shakes it off. He tries not to feel too hurt, but it's futile when he sees her hands tremble as she smooths her skirt.

"Do you-"

"I'll be-"

They speak at the same time; as always, Doyeon gains her composure first. "I'll be heading this way. Lucy's picking me up in a bit."

He nods. She opens her mouth like she's about to say something but ultimately decides against it. She manages a smile he doesn't return. She bows, then turns to walk away. Dongmin watches her retreating figure, swallowing whatever it is he wanted to say.

She doesn't looks back once.

 

 

 

 

The phone rings incessantly. The shrill tone is constant, even as the names that flash across the scene change. It's an irregular carousel between his parents, his younger brother, and five of his closest friends.  
  
One name is conspicuously missing- he tries not to dwell on the weight of his indifference, or on the fact that he will probably pick up his call if he ever does, even as he steadfastly rejects everyone else's.  
  
His hurt oscillates between the sharp, fresh pain of his divorce and the familiar, dull ache of Moon Bin's absence. The weekend passes in solitude; the phone still rings, and he still doesn't call.

 

 

 

 

Jinwoo corners him at work. It's the first time he's gone in a week. Judging by the scowl on his face, he knows.

"Why aren't you picking up our calls?" He demands, all pleasantries forgotten. 

"Hello, Jinwoo." He hasn't smiled this coldly in years, but there was a time when he had to be heartless, and he finds that muscle memory doesn't forget quite easily. "How's Ji-hyo?"

"Don't do this, Dongmin."

"Isn't her birthday coming up soon? Is she still into dinosaurs or would she like something else?"

Jinwoo shuts the door. He barely flinches. "Stop that!"

"I saw a dinosaur cake on display in this little bakery near my apartment. I could get-"

Jinwoo slams his hand on the table. This time he  _does_ flinch. Less from the act, and more from the pleading look in Jinwoo's eyes. Dongmin clasps his hands in his lap.

If he does it only to stop them from trembling, well, that's for him to know.

"Why," Jinwoo's voice breaks, and sadness seeps through the cracks. "Are you being so difficult?"

Dongmin thinks about Doyeon. He always thinks about her these days, especially about how she sat through the divorce procedures, her face stoic and composure unwavering, still as a statue in that old decrepit office because that lawyer was the only one they could  _care_ to afford. What was the use of a premium lawyer, she asked, if the end result was the same?

What was the use of hurting, he thinks, if the end result is the same?

"As lovely it is to see you, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. I have a meeting at one and my presentation needs polishing. You know how it is."

His voice doesn't falter once. Jinwoo takes off his glasses and exhales deeply; Dongmin swallows any trace of guilt at how he suddenly looks very tired and old. "Dongmin-"

"Jinwoo." He cuts in, because he can deal with anger and frustration and disappoinment, but if he stands here and listens to how much Jinwoo cares for him, how they all care for him and keep calling him even when they know how stubborn he can be, he _will_ break. "Please leave."

Jinwoo stares at him. He stares at the door. He can feel the mask slip off, can feel his resolve breaking the longer that Jinwoo stands there with a hurt look on his face, can feel the urge to reach out and hug him and fall to his knees and weep but he doesn't, he  _won't-_

"Fine."

The relief he feels is palpable. He nearly sinks in his seat, but waits until Jinwoo closes the door behind him. 

The lock clicks quietly into place. He plays some generic pop music on a portable speaker to fill the silence.

If he does it only so no one can hear him cry through his lunch break, well- you know the drill.

 

 

 

 

There's this memory-

He and Moon Bin are alone, sprawled on his bedroom floor in various states of undress. One of his socks is gone, so is his flannel shirt and his pants. Bin's upper body is naked and his pants are loose after having lost his belt hours ago.

"Come on Minnie," Bin whines, reaching over to slap his chest. It ends up pinned between his chest and Dongmin's hand, the warmth seeping through his undershirt. "Let's keep playing." 

His left leg is lined up with Bin's right, and he jabs his toe in his calf. "You can't even count anymore!"

Bin sits up at that, affronted, but he is too drunk and the movement is too sudden. He falls over, upper body draped atop Dongmin's. One of his hands is still trapped between them, the other is beside Dongmin's head, holding his weight up. 

"I  _so_ can," he snipes, but it comes out more as a whisper. Their faces are close enough that Dongmin can feel Bin's breath on his lips, warm and sweet, like the spiked punch he likes so much and would want to drink some more, "one,"

"Binnie," he hadn't meant to say it like that, breathless. Bin's eyes darken, like he likes it-

"Two," 

He is burning up, feverish almost, which doesn't make sense because he is in his boxers for fuck's sake-

"Thr-"

Dongmin flips them over and just like that, he is kissing Moon Bin. And Moon Bin is kissing him back, except Dongmin thinks kissing is not a good enough word for what they're doing.

It's hot and sticky and desperate- Bin sits up so he can put both his arms around Dongmin's neck, tongue diving into Dongmin's mouth. It is heavy and insistent against his own, and they keep at it until it's too much and Dongmin pulls away.

Bin's starts to whine at the loss of contact, but it quickly turns into a moan when Dongmin's lips latch onto his neck. Bin tastes like sweat and that godforsaken punch and the feel of his skin underneath his tongue is addictive and Dongmin wants it so much that he marks that spot so he'll know where to go back to if he craves it later on.

He moves his lips back to Bin's jaw, and Bin touches the tender spot on his neck. "Fuck, Min,"

"What," Dongmin asks, confused. His hands are gripping Bin's hips, jeans tugged past his hipbones so all he can touch is warm skin. 

Bin doesn't answer, only pushes him back so he is sat up. He moves between his legs and begins a trail of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from Dongmin's temple down to his neck, all the while pulling his shirt up. 

"Ah," Dongmin groans as the cool air hits his body, but it's quickly replaced by the feeling of catching fire as Bin's hands roam on his stomach. He settles on his collarbone, teeth grazing the delicate skin and making Dongmin keen, high and sharp. He feels rather than hears Bin's laugh against his chest.

"Fuck you Binnie," he says, but it's hard to sound cross when he's panting really heavily and Bin was able to kick his pants off somehow and his knee is pressing against the inside of Dongmin's thigh.

"Yeah?" Bin grunts as he looks up and  _fuck,_ had he always looked that good? "You sure about that?"

Bin sounds cocky, but his grip has loosened on Dongmin's waist. He is filled with the urge to reassure him, so he presses a kiss to Bin's temple and he reaches down to cup his ass to pull him into his lap. Bin actually shudders at that, ducking his head down to hide his embarrasment.

Dongmin tilts his chin up, until the desire in his eyes is reflected in Bin's. "It's-" he hadn't noticed how husky his voice had become, "it's a bit too late to be asking that, don't you think?"

Bin stares back, face unreadable for a split-second before it turns predatory and he's back to making out with Dongmin. Bin bites his lower lip and he bucks his hips involuntarily, unable to hold back his gasp of pleasure. Bin gets even fiercer at that, dropping down to leave his own mark on Dongmin's neck. He claws helplessly at Bin's broad back, unconsciously wrapping his legs around Bin's hips. They thrust against each other, the smooth fabric of their boxers making the friction almost painful, their stuttered breathing filling the room.

Bin licks up a stripe of his neck, ending just below the shell of his ear and sucks  _hard._ Dongmin can't help it- his hands grab Bin's ass again, but this time he squeezes them as he jerks upward. He feels delirious with the contact, eyes closed and blindly grasping for an elastic band so he can pull Bin's boxers down-

Dongmin wakes with a start, sweaty and out of breath. The sheets are kicked to his feet, exposing a very messy predicament. There are phantom touches on his skin, under his fingertips and across his jaw. He feels restless and exhausted all at once.

There's something to be said about how he is having vivid dreams about Moon Bin barely a month after being divorced, mostly about how the universe likes treating him as a joke.

"Well, humor is a coping mechanism." He muses out loud.

The answering silence is deafening.

 

 

 

 

"So you've decided to be an asshole," is how Minhyuk greets him, strolling into his office the next day. He hums, continuing to scribble over a draft.

"Cool," Minhyuk drops into a chair and props his feet up his desk. He acts nonchalant but Dongmin notices he made sure to park on empty space. It makes his heart ache.

"I'm busy, Minhyuk."

"Sure." Minhyuk leans back, comfortable, and closes his eyes. Dongmin watches in disbelief, but otherwise makes no effort to make him leave. He's gone back to his paper instead, and only realizes he's been reading the same sentence over and over again when Minhyuk speaks again. "Bin called you yet?"

He feels the world tilt off its axis. Dongmin grips his pen until it rights itself. "How is the academy going along?"

Minhyuk ignores him. "Is that why you're acting up?" 

"My colleague sent his son there, I wonder if you know him? Blonde hair, a bit chubby-"

"Is that why you're ignoring us," Minhyuk continues as if Dongmin hadn't spoken at all, "because we're not Bin?"

The tip of the pen breaks off; ink smudges at where he'd been pressing it down. He stares at the blot, thinks he can make out a shape if he looks hard enough. Isn't there a personality test based on that? Dongmin wonders what traits they can abstract from him.

 _Liar,_ maybe, or _selfish._ Definitely _coward._

"Fuck you, Min." Minhyuk sounds tired more than anything. Jinwoo's defeated expression flashes before his eyes. "We love you too. We don't deserve this shit."

Dongmin inserts the file back to its folder, refusing to look at Minhyuk. "Heechul, I think. The child. His name is Kang Heechul, I wonder if you've seen him around?"

Minhyuk swings his legs back down and gets up to leave. He pauses by the doorway but doesn't look over his shoulder when he says, "Sanha's worried sick. Don't fucking talk to me for like, forever, I don't care, but if you hurt Sanha any more with your stupid charade, I'll fucking kill you."

Minhyuk goes out as casually as he sauntered in.

He texts Sanha, backspacing every few seconds because his fingers are shaking so much but he manages an  _I'm fine. Please don't worry. Coffee soon._  

He does dig his nails into his slacks hard enough to leave bruises but he doesn't cry again, so. 

Baby steps.

 

 

 

 

Doyeon texts him.

He nearly chokes on his coffee as the notification pops up on his screen.

He ignores the way his tongue burns and quickly taps the notification bubble.

_Talk to someone. Get some rest. Take care of yours_ _elf._

_Be brave._

_\- D._

It's  _D_ for Doyeon and  _D_ for Dongmin and  _D_ for divorce.

He wonders about how embarassing it would be to break down in the middle of a café.

Fuck it, he thinks, and the tears don't stop for a while after that.

 

 

 

 

Dongmin is smart. He aces his exams, ranks first in his grade and watches American films without subtitles.

He is smart, but he is also stupid. Especially about Moon Bin; there are no theories, no perfectly drawn diagrams, no color-coded notes to help him understand whatever it is they were doing, how he feels about it, or how he feels about  _him._

All he knows is the shiver up his spine and his frantic heartbeat and the way the room suddenly feels too hot whenever Bin would look at him with that unreadable gaze, eyes dark and tongue darting out to lick his lip.

It's not fair, he thinks, how easy it is for the rest of them to touch Bin. Myungjun hugs him, Jinwoo throws an arm across his shoulders, Minhyuk presses a kiss on his cheek, and Sanha tackles him to the ground and Dongmin-

Dongmin won't, _can't_ reach for Bin because it'll be too obvious how badly Dongmin wants to kiss him properly on the mouth or how easily he gets aroused just by the mere _thought_ of strip poker and spiked punch.

He waits until the rest leave, and waiting is difficult when you're hormonal and wanting and the person you  ~~love~~ lust over is in your gravity, precisely four teenage boys away.

He doesn't know what excuse Bin came up with to double back to his room but he doesn't care, not when their sweat is making the concealer on their necks run off, exposing the marks they left there three nights ago.

It's just as wild and just as hot, and when it's over, there are fresh bruises on his neck and bite marks on his hip and a broken alarm clock on the floor from when he'd tossed it along with Bin's shirt and they're lying side by side, completely spent.

He almost dozes off when he feels Bin hold his hand, which is something he's done for years now except.

 _Except_ it's different, and not just because they've started having sex, but because his perspective had shifted since then. He realizes how special Bin is to him, how deeply he cares for this loud, aggressive and competitive boy who goes completely soft only for him, who'd give him meat if he asked except Dongmin never does because he thinks Bin looks adorable when his cheeks are stuffed with too much food. He never tells him that though, only says  _learn some manners, idiot_ and savors his pout.

He loves his friends, but it's Bin he wants around the most, and that was even before he'd mapped the plane of his back with his hands or traced the arch of his neck with his tongue. He likes the sex of course, he's a teenager after all, but he likes everything else as well. 

He likes watching football with him, popcorn scattered everywhere because the bowl fell to the ground when Bin tackled him after he insulted his favorite player; he likes studying with Bin, even if he is too flighty and easily distracted, because he sings Dongmin's favorite songs quietly while they do their worksheets, his voice scratchy and high; he likes the way Bin hugs him from behind, chin resting atop his shoulder as he translates the movie poster summary in English while the rest bicker over what snacks to buy, repeating after him, his breath warm on his ear.

It's suddenly too much, this monumental realization that he's  _in love_ with his best friend and his best friend is a  _boy_ and he hadn't even known he likes boys and now he's had sex with Bin twice and he wants to do it again and-

And he snatches his hand back.

Bin doesn't say anything but he hears him take a sharp intake of breath. The spell is broken; he gets up and gets dressed and leaves without a word.

Dongmin is smart, but he feels like he's just failed the most important test of his life.

 

 

 

 

There are no more lunchtime visitors. There are no more texts from Doyeon either.

There is however, an illustration by Myungjun. It shows his caricature self stabbing caricature Dongmin with a fork, _idiot_ written across its forehead. He tapes it to the back of his office door and sends him the picture, promptly recieving a lot of angry face and knife emojis in return.

Sanha sends him a box of coffee,  _to tide you over until our date_ scribbled on a post-it with a purple pen. He puts it up next to the drawing.

Sanha must be feeling better, because Minhyuk doesn't murder him yet. He does however, send him a package of coal. It makes him laugh so hard that one of his coworkers rushed in to make sure he was actually laughing and not dying of a seizure.

He sends Jinwoo's daughter a stuffed dinosaur, which promptly gets sent back. The note reads  _she's into frogs now_  so he sends her a frog onesie instead, and even gets an adult-sized one for Jinwoo. He gets a text from him for the first time since they'd fought. 

 _Asshole_  says the caption, but two happy frogs are smiling widely at the camera and Dongmin thinks that maybe the peace sign Jinwoo makes means something more than just a silly pose.

He calls his parents and his brother, sends them flowers as an apology and promises to visit next winter.

Life goes on- he gets lunch with his coworkers,  enrolls in a gym, reads Haruki Murakami (and cries); and packs the remainder of Doyeon's things in a box and ships it off (and doesn't cry).

Bin never calls, but he's past that, so.

If it's a complete and blatant lie, well- you know how it goes.

 

 

 

 

His phone rings. It's been weeks since the nonstop calls have ceased, so he picks it up on instinct.

"Hey," the voice- he'd know it from anywhere. Dongmin may have just woken up but if voices could be tattooed, then Bin's would have already been scrawled across his chest, a hundred times over. "Dongmin-ah."

Dongmin laughs, delirious with emotion. If it were anyone else, they'd have put the phone down by now, but this is Bin and he simply waits it out. "You don't call me for months, then you call me at two in the morning. You're such a cliché, Binnie."

"Pot calling kettle black," he quips, and he can hear the smile in his voice. 

"Why's that?"

"I'll tell you when I see you."

"And when's _that?"_

"When you're ready." Bin says. There's a bit of shuffling on his end and he curses, loudly. "Shit, I stubbed my toe."

Dongmin grins, for what feels like the first time in months. "Idiot."

"Again. Pot, kettle, black." 

"I am."

"Clearly." Bin snorts.

"No, I mean, I am ready. For..."

"Yeah?" Dongmin nods, belatedly realizing Bin can't see him. "Okay. I'll text you."

Neither of them speak after that, but no one hangs up either. Dongmin listens to the sound of Bin's breathing and feels the knot in his chest loosen up, all the hurt and loneliness unraveling with every gentle exhale.

He must've fallen asleep eventually. He wakes up with his phone slumped between his pillow and his cheek and a crick in his neck.

It's the most well-rested he's felt in a long, long time.

 

 

 

 

Bin texts him the time and place, and Dongmin texts Doyeon back.

_I will._

_Thank you._

_\- D._

 

 

 

 

The moon is half-hidden beneath wispy clouds. The gentle breeze stir the few leaves still stubbornly clinging to the branches, refusing to succumb to autumn's chill. A lone figure sits on the park bench, peach labcoat looking washed out under the dim light of the streetlamp.

"Hi,"

"You're blonde."

Bin runs a hand up his hair. It leaves a few strands hanging across his forehead, tempting Dongmin to brush it aside. "Last month it was lavender." He looks Dongmin over and clucks his tongue. "You're too thin."

"I've started exercising." He takes the seat next to him. One of Bin's hand is planted between them and he tugs the sleeve of his labcoat. "Doesn't this break protocol?"

"I'm my own boss. We're not all corporate slaves, you know."

The silence barely settles.

"I want-"

"Why I-"

"You go first." Bin says, because they were never about having to win, never about fighting for the upper hand. Unlike with Doyeon, with the both of them constantly edging each other out, desperate to prove they weren't the one getting the raw end of the deal.

Bin always lets him go first, and Dongmin always lets him talk for as long as he likes, listening attentively and nodding at all the right moments, and it works. 

"Why am I a cliché?"

"You're incredibly smart and yet, a hopeless fool in love. You fall for your best friend. You're terrified at not being straight so you marry a girl to prove yourself wrong." Bin marks each bullet point with his finger. It doesn't sound cruel coming from him. It only sounds like the truth, which is exactly what Dongmin has decided to stop running away from anyway.

"Fair enough." He nods. Bin snorts, and Dongmin has to grip the park bench to stop himself from reaching over to boop his scrunched nose. "What did you want to say?"

"I, uh-" Bin clears his throat and looks away, sounding shy. "I want to tell you a story."

"Okay."

Bin takes a deep breath. Dongmin holds his.

"Okay, so. There's this boy. He falls in love with another boy, which isn't how most stories go but it happens sometimes. Especially when the other boy is his best friend who tutors him in math even when he keeps taking naps and his drool ruins his textbook. Or when the other boy hates dancing but pulls all-nighters to learn the waltz because his partner had gone down with the stomach flu three days before his final. So, um, he cooks him ramen and let's his head rest in his lap and he's pretty whipped at this point.

"The boy doesn't get his hopes up though. They never talk about being gay even though two of their closest friends have been dating since like, they were infants. He has no idea what the other boy wants,  but he never really read into any of the moves he pulled, not even when he offers him meat.  _Meat._ So the boy just keeps it to himself, even as his feelings threatens to consume him whole as time goes by.

"One night, they get drunk. Like, stupidly drunk. And they play strip poker, which might not be the best idea if you're trying to get over your immense crush but, well. They end up having sex. And then they do it again, and the sex is good, at least for like, virgins-" Bin blushes furiously at this point and Dongmin totally relates, "-and it should be enough for now, you know? It's a giant leap for gay-kind, specifically this very gay boy who just slept with with this other boy, the one he has been in love with for years now." 

He feels suffocated by the regret in Bin's eyes, but he doesn't dare look away now. "But the boy is impatient and needy. He just, lets all his feelings crash like a tsunami. The other boy runs away and the boy spends that summer lonely and miserable, and then they're off to opposite sides of the country for uni and the next time they see each other the other boy has a beautiful girl on her arm and that's that."

"Bin-"

"It's not your fault, Min." Bin says. Dongmin can't recall when they've moved but they're angled toward each other now. "Not entirely. It took me years to figure that out. How I scared you off instead of staying by your side to figure things out. How selfish I was, forcing you into something you weren't ready for."

"Binnie," and he can't help it, he never could when it came to Bin, he brushes the hair off his forehead, let his fingers linger on his skin. 

"But in retrospect, I'm glad we did. If you hadn't left, I would've spent my whole life clinging on to you and desperate for your approval. I learned to be independent, to cook, live alone, pass my tests even, but I- I never really learned how to stop waiting for you.

"When I heard, I wanted to see you so bad. I was just about to call Jinwoo and ask him where you lived, but in the end, I couldn't. Me swooping in to be your hero when you're at your most vulnerable was _literally_ the most selfish thing I could've done. I hurt you once before, being like that. I promised myself I never would again."

"Binnie," and all this time he'd been beating himself up for ruining his chance at a lifelong love and Bin had been doing the exact same thing. They really were a pair of fools, weren't they? "I love you."

Bin stiffens, reeling from Dongmin as if slapped. "Don't." The hurt in his voice is almost palpable. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I was a coward, no-" he raises a hand as Bin opens his mouth. "Don't pin this all on yourself. I didn't just run away, Binnie. I got  _married_ at nineteen." Dongmin shakes his head, doesn't stop the bitter and hollow laugh that comes out. "I  _tried_ , Bin. God, I tried so hard to love her like I loved you. I cut off everyone in my old life who reminded me of you. I even stopped visiting home because wherever I go, I see your smile and hear your laugh and I always forget to remember that you're not with me.

I tried, but no matter how beautiful or kind Doyeon is, no matter how much I gave her or the promises I kept, it was never going to last because we both knew I was in love with you. I still am."

Dongmin lets out a shaky breath. "To be honest, I probably always will be."

"Say it again." Bin says, deathly still.

"I love you."

Bin's eyes narrow, and that unreadable expression is back on his face. Except, he thinks, he understands that look now. It's the same one on his face, the one that spells out a four-letter word, as delicate as spring's first bloom, as unyielding as the harsh winter winds. It is all he's ever wanted and it took him a long time to see that, but now he doesn't think he'll ever have eyes for anyone else. "You better not be fucking with me, Dongmin."

"Well," it takes an extraordinary amount of courage for him to keep talking.  _Be brave._  So he moves closer, until Bin is trapped between him and the curved steel arm of the bench, "not now maybe, since we're in a public place, unless you're into that-"

Bin shuts him up.

There's a lot of ways this could have gone, but Dongmin's imagination doesn't hold a candle to Bin, warm and solid and real under his hands. He could've done without the risk of public indecency but, when Bin mumbles I love you against his lips, he finds he doesn't mind at all.

 

 

 

 

They don't sleep together that night.

Or the night after that, or a few weeks after that. They go on lunch dates instead, trying out exotic cuisines and reverting right back to ramen and kimchi after a nasty bout of food poisoning (bad sushi). He visits Bin's clinic and plays with injured puppies or kittens while waiting for his shift to end. Bin goes to his office and nearly faints from laughing too hard at Myungjun's picture and Minhyuk's present.

(He considered telling him about the death threat but then Bin might actually die from laughter so he saves it up for another time.)

Bin creates a new groupchat and invites them all to dinner. It would've been nearly impossible to free everyone up on the same day but thankfully (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), Sanha is nothing but persistent. He floods everyone's inbox with his infamous aegyo until Jinwoo puts his foot down and orders everyone to clear their schedules on a particular date because Sanha's  _bbu bbu_ had played during his monthly report to his executives and nearly gotten him suspended for a week.

The dinner is loud and lasts until four in the morning and there is a lot of crying and punching and spoons, because Jinwoo refuses to let them near forks, knives and alcohol at the same time.

Life goes on.

He doesn't text Doyeon, but he hears from a friend that she's happier now. He hasn't prayed in a long time, but he occassionally finds himself asking any deity who'd listen to grant her the happiness she deserves.

The irregular carousel now has one additional name; he picks up all his calls and even makes some of his own. Ji-hyo gets into pirates and Myungjun sends Dongmin cake after he gives Jinwoo a slutty pirate costume that his daughter innocently forces him to wear. Minhyuk and Sanha get married, an intimate gathering on a nearby island, and he cries possibly harder than both their mothers. 

Dongmin quickly learns that having Moon Bin in his life is less about things magically falling into place and more about moving things around to make space. It's not easy- they can both be incredibly stubborn and painfully oblivious, and old habits die hard, but Bin's laugh is his favorite sound in the whole world and waking up next to him makes even Mondays bearable and he refuses to let them go to sleep angry and he always lets Dongmin talk first and Dongmin, well- after living a lie for so long, their love for each other is the truest thing he knows.

They fall together eventually, tumbling on his bed like teenagers again. It is even hotter than Dongmin remembers, but it is neither wild nor desperate- they take their time, mapping each other's bodies, learning new tricks and remembering familiar patterns. He likes,  _loves_ it, to be completely honest, but.

He still finds the best part to be when they're done and completely spent, melting into each other's warmth and their legs entangled together until Dongmin doesn't know where he ends and Bin begins, their deep, contented breathing gently lulling him to sleep.

Bin reaches for his hand.

He never lets it go.

**Author's Note:**

> It made me feel less mortal, less ordinary. It was support and vindication; it was sustenance and sum. It was the keystone that held the whole cathedral up.  
> 
> [donna tarth; the goldfinch]


End file.
